When Steel Speaks for Love
CHAPTER 1: When Blade Meets Sheath
(Mizu x F!Reader)
wc: 3292
content warning: mild descriptions of violence
ao3 link!
a/n: my apologies i tend to dwell on the past, scenery and perfecting the details, so this turned out weirdly longer than i preferred.!
this is also my first fanfiction after giving up on narrative writing for about 3 years, so i apologize for my writing style with lingering poetry themes..
with that a do, enjoy, maybe leave a comment or two whether i should continue this!!
EDO PERIOD JAPAN
Through the dark night skies of winter decorated by stars,
Untold whispers lingered in the air,
The wind travels through the air, carrying its story to tell.
Thoughts rushing and stunting one,
The color blue spilling into the unknown depths of river,
A deep, red crimson color spilling from one’s abdomen.
The color blue painting one’s irises rising from the waters,
There, the blue eye samurai was,
her figure emerging from the river.
allowing the cold breeze to kiss her bare and wet skin dry.
Truth be told.
Let it unfold.
Her palms soaked with blood,
Steel stained by the blood, the fresh liquid.
Shaken hands struggling to keep their grip.
The blood of her victims, she glared with disgust.
Hooligans..
…
Kohama, Japan.
A bag of coins jingled as a man tossed them into her hands,
“Mizu, go take a break and fetch rice grain from the market for us both.” The blind man spoke as he sat down.
Clutching the pouch, the androgynous teen stood up and walked out, into the night.
Every step she takes, the whispers get louder. Walking with her head down, avoiding the gaze of the city dwellers.
Tonight was quiet in Kohama. The sky brewed a storm, not serving yet. Dark skies of winter bringing a cold breeze to the village.
Mizu walked to the mainland, the village.
The night is when she prefers to leave, as not many locals are out, mostly at home, resting.
No locals, no one to insult her.
To throw rocks at her.
To chase her down the streets.
She grew up in these streets, the streets which rejected her existence. Her person, all for her western genes. Her sapphire irises.
Flickering candle lights inside the lanterns spread across the streets , making her way to the market, hoping a vendor would still be selling. Her sandals crunched on the muddy floors with every step she took towards the vendor.
Picking up a pouch of white rice grain and testing the weight, if it is enough to feed her and swordsfather for the month,
which it is.
Keeping her head down as she slid the rice pouch onto the wooden table, opening the pouch of coin to ready her payment.
“How much?”
“3 ryo.”
She dropped 3 gold coins onto the table, picking the rice pouch up as she bowed her head down, beginning to walk back.
Walking back to swordsfather’s hut, she eyed a tall man entering the hut.
A customer.
And a shorter figure, waiting outside.
As Mizu made her way back inside, she dropped the rice pouch onto the floor, walking back outside to train with a sword she borrowed from swordsfather.
Now getting a slightly better look at the person waiting outside, appearing to be sitting against the wall of the hut.
Another female adolescent, seemingly Mizu’s age.
Exhaling as she cut through the air with her blade, slicing through the breeze with building skill.
Taking a glance at the sitting figure, eyeing her hair spilling down from her head like ink,
who was eyeing her back.
Mizu’s grip on the katana tightened by habit, staring back at the stranger.
“Why are you looking at me?” Mizu spoke, eyes narrowing.
“You’re quite skilled with your katana.” She replied, lifting her head from her arms.
Her gaze averted up Mizu’s face, looking into her eyes.. judging or observing? Mizu doesn’t know.
She swallowed, “Go find something else to look at.” She began to slice through the air oncemore, ignoring the young lady’s watchful gaze.
She rose from the ground, brushing the dirt off her kimono as she approached, the earth crisp under her sandals.
Mizu kept an eye, before holding her blade to the stranger.
“What.” She spat.
Observing her stance, she spoke,
“My father told me that the blade is an extension of your arm. You wield it as a tool, not a limb.”
“It’s a tool, is it not?” She retorted, lowering her weapon by a mere inch.
“Yes.. though the weapon is you. You don’t move the sword with your arm into another man, you move your sword into him. You hesitate too much when you wield.. so relax yourself.”
“You speak as if you’ve mastered the blade. Where is your weapon, then?”
“I’m honored to seem a master..though, i don’t have a blade, myself.”
“Huh.”
The two stood in the stretching silence for a moment, before the taller man exited from the hut.
Really a customer.
“Alright, [name], let’s go before this place rots your brain. Wouldn’t want you thinking weak women like you can have a katana.” The man, her father, grabbed her by the arm, pulling her away.
Mizu watched as her father took her away. What an odd interaction, she thought to herself, continuing to cut through the wind before being called in by Eiji.
…
“Leave. Now.” The woman stood bare in the waters, holding her blade to the man’s neck.
He blinked a few times before the swordswoman held the blade closer, now posing as a threat, resulting in his departure into the woods.
Annoyance and irritation filled the woman, sighing as she stepped out of the water and dried herself. Not long before binding her chest tightly once again, tight enough to cause spinal issues and damage her breast tissue.. and pulling her kimono on and tying her obi (her baby blanket) around her waist.
Getting dressed after a strange interaction with a man she had met whom persisted on becoming her acquaintance as the cool air brushed her skin before fully covering up.
…
The snow crunched under your sandals, socks disgustingly wet after stepping in a few puddles of rain, mud, and blood. After being chased around the town and cornered by three idiotic excuses of men, you slaughtered them. As you always did to whom dare lay a hand on you. Now bleeding out from a mistake in reading their movements, your side paid the price and ended up being stabbed. Clutching your side as your wound dispersed more cranberry liquid, steps growing weaker and your vision threatening to take a swim.
You survived so much, you dare die now? An idiot you are for thinking so.
Crimson droplets fell on the snow, drawing a path of your blood from your injury and blood of your enemies on your dagger with each grueling step you take. With every lift of your leg, your injuries screamed louder. Every twist, every turn, every breath you took was destroying you on the inside. Already extremely exhausted from the day prior to the attack, fatigue was trying to reel you in.
Don’t you dare rest.
Not now.
Looking down at your side as you walked, you noticed more droplets of blood ahead of you on the ground, obviously not yours. Someone else is definitely in these forests. Turning your head, you see a trail of small droplets of red, darker red than yours.
Gods help you, for this injury is rather minor compared to others you’ve dealt with.
Who could be here? Lingering at night, injured like you?
You heard of an attack at the Shindo Dojo, word spreading quickly across Kyoto. An unnamed samurai cut through the dojo like nothing, and dishonoring its reigning champion. Could the samurai be here? It’s a possibility.
Weakly stumbling with staggered steps, your feet brought you to a large body of water. Ethereal it appeared in the moonlight, how perfect and surreal it was, truly a sight to appreciate. You stared into the water for a while, looking down at your reflection— rather disheveled state with sweat beads forming and your hair messed up. Holding your dagger and resting it on the rock beside you, it clinks as it makes contact, the blood drips and slowly streams down the rock.
You inhaled deeply, bringing your hand away from your side and only being met with the sight of a tremendous amount of red. You can’t even tell whether it’s your enemies blood or your own, quite frankly not caring. Now, your kimono was ripped and drenched in the liquid, the wind pressing against the wound.
The bleeding has stopped, for now, but the wound didn’t magically disappear.
Hearing slight commotion to your left, you exhaled, averting your gaze and finding just what you expected.
A tall figure, most likely a man looking up at the sky as if counting the stars.
“Found you.” You murmured to yourself and the trees surrounding you..and the samurai.
And you underestimated just how quiet it was
because you didn’t expect him to hear you.
Sighing, you dipped your sickeningly bloody hands into the waters, instantly coloring the river crimson. Looking down at your reflection once again, you see him.
The samurai. Right behind you.
You quickly lift your dampened fingers from the water, grabbing your still bloodied dagger and pointing at the man.
Not expecting his blade to be drawn, the tip pointing at your neck, though not touching.
Following the design of the katana, eyes trailing up the waves seemingly etched onto the steel. As your eyes directed themselves up to meet his gaze,
A realization.
Blue eyes.
…
“Come on now, boy.” You heard your father speak. Glancing over, you see him and the boy (whose name you never retrieved) from Master Eiji’s hut holding sticks, both in fighting positions.
“Are they.. dueling?” You thought. Your father, your big and tall father going up against this boy half his size?
You watched them raise their sticks, the boy coming at your father with a raised arm. Paying close attention to the boy’s stance, his footwork was rather off. A deadly mistake in battle to have predictable and bad footwork. Your father struck him in the forehead, stumbling onto the wet and muddy ground.
You wince. Breath hitching, you wanted to help him, despite not knowing him, not even knowing his name.
Your father erupted into laughter, the sound enough to make you flinch.
Never good.
“Your footwork announces your thoughts.” He laughed. A disgusting sound you despise hearing. Loud, ignorant chuckles erupting everytime he insulted you or a random stranger.
You watched the boy groan as he got up, raising his stick oncemore. Your father raised his stick too, the thunder rumbling as he struck again, drawing blood from the boy’s forehead. He stumbles again, back falling onto the muddy earth as the rain continued to pour.
Your faher laughed again, gods, you hated his laugh.
He poked the boy’s chest, “You’re soft for a boy.” He said, lifting his chin up with the stick, “Mixed breeds are all weak stock.” He snorted, laughing as he walked away.
And you? You stayed, swiftly making your way to the boy, kneeling before him. The rain poured on the both of you, wetting your hair, strands sticking to your face.
He glanced at you with indifference, the dark blood trickling down his forehead. You tugged on the sleeve of your kimono before cupping his face, wiping his forehead off with your sleeve, dying it with his blood.
The boy winced slightly, before grabbing your wrist, “Why are you doing this?” He asked.
“Out of kindness.. and my father, he is a foolish man, if you can even call him a man.” You assured, freeing your wrist from his grasp and wiping the remnants of blood off. The edge of your sleeve now colored red, though, the stain doesn’t matter to you.
He grunted, allowing you to continue.
Curiosity got to you, “I never got your name?” You blurted out.
He hesitated for a moment, “Mizu.”
Ah, “Mizu”.. Water, explaining his fluidity when wielding his weapon.
“And you?” He asked.
“[name].” You replied.
He nodded. You don’t know he already knows your name.
Your eyes flickering down to his eyes oncemore.
Bright sapphire irises.
Absolutley gorgeous.
How you’d swear looking into them this one time would curse you with admiring them forever.
…
You blink back to reality.
Those stunning blue eyes staring deep into yours.
How you’d never forget the way he looked at you with them.
You swallowed,
“..Mizu?”
His eyes widened slightly, before narrowing them,
“How do you know my name?” His rather raspy voice catching your attention.
Well, that’s a change.
But excuse him, how do you know his name? Your breath hitching at the implication he doesn’t remember you. Your lips formed into a thin line as you spoke softly,
“[Name] from Kohama. Back when we were just teenagers, I’d sneak to your hut and watch you train.. and we’d run around the village chasing each other, ignoring the adults scolding us..!” You let a small smile show at the remembrance, the memories holding you in a tight embrace.
As you wish Mizu would hold you.
You swear his gaze softened at your words, desperately hoping and silently wishing to the gods above he wasn’t stupidly demented and remembered you.
“[Name].. from Kohama..” Mizu looked you up and down, before sheathing his blade into its saya in his obi, “How did you locate me?”
“I swear, this is coincidence.. I didn’t expect to find you of all people here in Kyoto.” You never expected to find him, but you always wished to.
Back in Kohama, he remained one of your only friends. Always lingering around Eiji’s hut just to be with Mizu. Even Eiji, while blind, recognized your presence under his roof at all times. You felt safe, unlike at “home.” Mizu provided you with a place of comfort, allowed you to be vulnerable. That’s what made the two of you so close and inseparable.
He raised an eyebrow at your wounded side.
“Ah, it’s nothing too bad.” You brushed it off nonchalantly, lowering your dagger and pressing a palm to your wound.
He chuckles with a tiny smirk, “‘Guess some things never change. You still brush your injuries off like they’re nothing.“
“You’ve surely climbed some heights.”
“I have.”
Same nonchalant responses as always.. though you missed them deeply. You missed him.
You sighed, “It’s been.. what, seven years..? What have you been up to?”
The silence stretched on between you two, feeling awkward, though somewhat comforting for you.
“I’ve been taking steps to get my revenge.”
His revenge.. an oath he made since childhood.. what was it, slaughter the four— three white men which made him a “monster?”
You never saw a monster in those eyes. Maybe you were right, looking into those irises would curse you with admiring them until time stops.
A bloody path for vengeance he followed, thirsty for his revenge. Your fingers twitched at your side;well, speaking of your side, your palm felt wet. The blood on your kimono transferred over to your palm. An inconvenience you’ll deal with later whilst ignoring your wound for just a bit longer;Would it be wrong to ask to accompany him? Afterall, your last interaction was years ago, this is your first encounter after.
How you missed Mizu’s presence dearly, wishing everyday you hadn’t left. Missing hearing his voice, feeling his touch, everything. And now, you’re face to face with the friend you once had before.
“I hope your journey is going well for you, Mizu.”
The way his name slid off your tongue so smoothly, proved how you’ve known him since adolescence.
He nods in acknowledgment,
“It was.. nice seeing you again, [Name].” He stepped away and walked off, over to what appeared to be his belongings.
You followed close behind him, looking down at the boulder, holding his weights, kasa, and amber colored spectacles.
He glanced back at you, then to his belongings, before handing you a needle and thread.
“For your side.”
Oh, how kind of him.
The corners of your lips tug into a small smile at the act of generosity, taking the supplies,
“Thank you.”
Your hands brushed against his, lingering for a second too long.
The air is filled with unsaid thoughts that don’t dare to come out.
…
You stitched the wound on your side, the stitches stinging, though you know you’ll be alright. Mizu stayed and kept guard, starting a campfire nearby. Sitting by the campfire the two of you sat in silence, allowing the heat of the fire radiate and warm the both of you up.
“Where’s your next destination?” You asked, watching the fire illuminate his facial features. How.. beautiful he looked for a man.
“Are you trying to follow me?” He chuckled, putting a hand on his knee.
Oh, that laugh, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your veins. A spark of warmth heating up throughout your body at the sound, bringing you a sense of comfort and.. nostalgia.
“No?! I’m just trying to strike a conversation..” You pouted, before adding on, quietly, “I missed you.. and talking to you.”
Mizu glances over at you, his expression unreadable to you.
He’s missed you too. Spending all that time together as teenagers, just for you to mysteriously disappear one day, and never return until now? Sleepless nights worrying about your being, searching the village for you to no appease and ultimately thinking you’re dead. Seeing you alive and well (a stretch) is indeed a relief for him. Something he can’t bring himself to admit to you.
Not yet.
He doesn’t know when.
So until then, he’ll let steel speak for him.
Truths vowed in metal.
You sighed at his lack of response, though it doesn’t surprise you. Not anymore, does it.
Mizu notices the slouch in your shoulders as you sat, exhaling slowly,
“..I missed you too, [Name].”
More than you could ever imagine.
More than he could ever try to explain.
More than ever before.
He cleared his throat, “Though, I’m on my way to Tanabe Island.”
Tanabe Island..
“Off the North coast of Honshu.. I’m aware Mihonoseki has boats you could utilize.”
“Mihonoseki.”
“It’s nearby here.”
“Then I’ll be off to Mihonoseki.”
“Will you bring me?” You blurted out without hesitation.
Mizu had thought for a moment, letting the air still, leaving only the whispers of the wind to accompany the quiet.
“You’re better off.”
“With you, yes.”
“Without me.”
“Give me one good reason you believe as to why I’d be better off without accompanying you.”
His hand rested on the hilt of his katana. Not to attack, not to draw, but by habit.
“It’s dangerous. I can’t risk you getting injured more than you already seem to be.. You’re better off staying in the warmth of Kyoto.. or wherever you live now.”
“I can handle myself well, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Is that so?” He arched a brow at your words, obviously skeptical of your skill.
You nodded.
The silence grew once more, as Mizu watched the flames of the campfire, whilst you watched the night sky, a beautiful dark blue color and the thousands of stars.
Not as beautiful as his eyes.
Mizu watched the flames dance, his gaze trailing up to your face, analyzing the way the fire paints your skin and brings out your true beauty.
“Mizu, I don’t want to be separated from you again.” You admit.
“It’s dangerous.”
“Welcome the danger, then. They’ll have two people to kill now.”
A vow promised by steel made to him and whoever dares threaten this journey.
“I wouldn’t want to be hauling your corpse around if anything happened to you.”
“I’m not weak.”
“I never said that.”
“Whether or not you are skilled in combat does not matter to me, [Name]. I don’t need you being put at risk for my path’s sake and I don’t want you to, either.”
The words hang in the air for what seems an eternity, the crackling of the fire burning keeping you both intact with reality. The snow falling, a testimony of the moment.